


My rock, Irene Adler

by Bloodsucker



Category: Adlock - Fandom, Irene Adler - Fandom, Rosie Watson - Fandom, Sherlock Holmes - fandom, Sherlock Holmes/Irene Adler - Fandom, john watson - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Mary Lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-24
Updated: 2017-01-24
Packaged: 2018-09-19 18:09:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9453644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bloodsucker/pseuds/Bloodsucker
Summary: Mary gets shot. Sherlock gets blamed for it, despite it not being his fault. Sherlock is alone and Irene Adler swoops in to comfort him.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I wouldn't expect much of this. It is my first ever fanfiction.

_BEEP...BEEP...BEEP...BEEP_

Mary Watson's heart beat echoed around the room. It was the only sure fire thing that kept John Watson from going insane. His wife had just been shot in front of him. "That bullet was meant for Sherlock. That bastard doesn't deserve to live" John muttered under his breath before getting up from the cold plastic chair left for patients family and friends. John stretched his arms above his head, whilst trying to stifle a yawn that was building up in his chest. He could safely say that until Mary was safe at home, alive, he would not sleep.

The sound of John's shuffling feet mixed with the sound of the heart monitor as he moved towards the door. Reaching out for the door handle, he yanked to door open with as much strength as his sleepy limbs could handle. Stepping into the hallway he saw Molly Hooper cradling his baby girl, whilst she waited for John to come and receive her. It had been three weeks since the incident and he could not be more angry. This never would have happened is Sherlock had not been his arrogant assolic self. John found himself wishing that when Mary had shot him two years ago, that Sherlock had died.

"Hey Molly! Could you just keep hold of little Rosie for me? I have to do something." John whispered softly as he had noticed that his only child was sleeping soundly. Molly nodded before standing up and swiftly walking down the hall towards the exit, carrying baby Rosie in her arms securely. Turning on his heel, John headed towards his car. He drove off quickly, speeding through London towards baker street. He exited his car and rushed up the 221B Baker Street stairs, surrounded by an aroma of anger. He reached the top of the staircase and flung first door seen open. He barged in and saw Sherlock sitting in his chair looking like he hadn't showered in weeks.

"YOU FUCKING BASTARD! IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT THAT MY WIFE IS DYING. I WISH YOU HAD JUMPED OFF OF THE FUCKING HOSPITAL AND ACTUALLY DIED, YOU WORTHLESS PEICE OF TRAST." John yelled. Anger flowed out of every pore in his body, aimed directly at Sherlock Holmes. "I HOPE YOU BURN IN HELL YOU ABSOLUTE BASTARD. WE ARE NO LONGER FRIENDS..NO WE ARE NO LONGER EVEN AQUANTENCES. I DON'T WANT TO EVER SEE YOU AGAIN AND YOU ARE FORBIDDEN TO SEE ROSIE AND MARY EVER AGAIN. GOT IT???"

After seeing Sherlock nod his head, John spun on his heel, ignoring the boxes piled around the apartment, and rushed out the door slamming it firmly behind him. Sherlock sat in  a stunned silence. He wasn't very surprised, though. Lastrade, Molly, his parents, brother and even Mrs Hudson had all said similar things to him. He truly did feel worthless and as he fell into a deep state of depression with no chance of escaping, he had decide that he was going to quit his job as a consultant detective.

He turned his head slightly when he heard the unmistakeable sound of his one true love, Irene, heading out of the bathroom. One look at Sherlock's face and Irene was across the hall in his arms. Sherlock held her in his arms as tears ran down his face and onto his blue dressing gown that was currently being worn by The Women. He felt like shit. He felt worthless and alone. He wasn't alone though, and he knew it. He may not have his brother or his loving parents anymore. He may not have little Rosie or any of his so called friends, who had abandoned him despite Mary being shot not being his fault. There was one thing he had. The only thing he needed. This most important person to him, Irene Holmes, his all too faithful wife.

**This is my first ever fanfiction.**


End file.
